Thursday, January 26, 2006

Mister Manners

"Curtsy while you're thinking what to say. It saves time."–Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

The family into which I was born is, to put it mildly, informal.

You know those holiday commercials that show gleaming, symmetrical groups of soft-spoken kin around a mahogany dinner table, with the paterfamilias doling out a turkey without getting grease on his necktie? We were not that family. We had as much in common with that family as we did with nomadic Mongolians and those tribes in the Amazon that didn't see white people until the 60s, or whenever it was. Come think of it, we probably have more in common with the Amazonians.

As a child, this drove me nuts.

I was thoroughly convinced by age six that I was a changeling. My "father" and "mother" were satisfactory for all practical purposes. They kept me clothed and fed. But they could not possibly be my real parents. My real parents would not eat off paper plates, or hang around the house on Saturdays in jeans and t-shirts. My real parents threw cocktail parties, dressed for dinner, and–the height of glamour to my infant mind–would take me to Puerto Vallarta on the Pacific Princess for my birthday.

A lot of little kids try to run away from home. Not me. I parked myself on the curb in front of the house, with Raggedy Ann under one arm and a book under the other, and waited for my real parents to drive by in their limousine and pick me up.

It embarrasses me now that this way of thinking didn't fade as I grew older, it just morphed into a desperate need to claw my way to the top of a society that, I have since learned, really only ever existed in my head.

When I arrived at Harvard as a freshman, determined to make myself over into the second coming of Oliver Barrett, my obsession with etiquette began. Having heard that proper manners were the ticket into elevated circles, I set about to acquire them.

I missed.

My parents, I have since realized, had already taught me manners. What I learned at Harvard was etiquette. Extremely formal etiquette. Antiquated etiquette. Etiquette of a sort that only the people who hang around with Queen Liz need to know. Etiquette of a sort that helped change me, for a time, from a dizzy but not unpleasant person into a crashing, boring snob.

Have you ever met a 17-year-old whose fondest desire is engraved stationery and visiting cards? Who issues formal invitations to a Christmas party in his dorm room? And requires equally formal, written RSVPs? Who is so concerned with questions of precedent when introducing a mixed company of ladies and gentlemen of various ages that he nearly passes out from the strain? Who flies home for winter break in a coat and tie because he feels people ought to wear traveling clothes?

Through the grace of God, I have since calmed down. Mostly. I still want the stationery and the cards.*

The remant of this bizarre fascination is my collection of etiquette books and domestic manuals. Below is a small section of the shelf.

Even at this small size, you will doubtless note that they're mostly, ahem, slightly out of date. But that's one of the reasons I love them so. When I read them now, it's not so much for reference as to immerse myself in a world that, if it ever existed, is now long gone.

Take, for example, the 1920s edition of Emily Post. It's the fat blue book just to the right of Manners for Women. Just for one day, I would like to trade problems Mrs. Worldly, who is to my mind Miss Post's most enduring contribution to English literature.

Mrs. Worldly, a hefty dame who perches at the top of the social pyramid in a fur coat, would appear to live a life of perfect ease. But no. Daily, nightly, she wrestles with:

How to survive a "camping trip" to the Adirondacks without her maid, because she cannot do her own hair.**

Housemaids who noisily stack dinner plates one atop the other when clearing the table.

Changing clothes four times a day when in Newport.

Remembering the different hours appropriate for making social calls in Newport, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, DC.

Properly addressing members of the royal family when visiting England.

I could go on, but I don't want to ruin your morning with painful images.

In the years since college, I've come to appreciate my freewheeling parents and my goofy family. I've learned that something Birdfarm once said to me, which at the time made me grit my teeth, was quite true: "It's really just about being nice to people."

On the other hand, if you need to know how to Properly Cross a Ballroom Floor Without an Escort, I'm your man.

*And I still believe firmly in the importance of not only good manners, but of a certain level of practical etiquette. Humans are unpredictible, and their interactions are fraught with the possibility of conflict. When you give those interactions a framework, it helps keep things civil. It's a good thing, if you don't take it too far and use it to shut people out.

**She ultimately solves the problem by wearing a fur hat the entire time. I would never have thought of that.

79 comments:

Kathy
said...

Mister, your family sounds like mine.Sure, we five kids learned manners, but our most important dinner rule was "no singing at the table".Well, that and, "Vin, eat your own dinner first before you try and weasel Kath's".

Just the other day a friend called me to ask advice about addressing an envelope for a wedding invitation. She said, "I just had a feeling you'd know this." Well, I went to my bookshelf and pulled out Emily Post (a gift from you, as are most of my etiquette books), and promptly found the exact situation about which the friend had asked. It felt great to be able to answer her question. I know that in the grand scheme of things, the exactly proper format for addressing an envelope is not a big deal, but there is no shame in feeling like you've done your best (and your homework). Thanks for getting me interested in the subject, and trust that I remember what may be the most important piece of advice from Miss Manners (one of my idols): It is ill-mannered to point out someone else's etiquette 'mistakes'.

I have the Emily Post book. I've never read it, but use it for decorative purposes for my silver salt shakers to rest upon.

I agree with you about a certain amount of etiquette being useful. Etiquette is _supposed_ to be useful, that's what people invented it for. You didn't have to worry about what to do in certain situations, you _knew_ what to do because of etiquette.

But formal invitations to your dorm room Christmas party might have been going a little too far... ;)

I learned a lot of (to me) bizarre etiquette rules this summer as maid of honor to a southern bride and have since gotten really into reading about the history of etiquette and domesticity. I would love to find a copy of an old version of Emily Post. I also love turn of the century domestic manuels.

There's something to be said for etiquette, although it surely doesn't need to be followed as stringently as Ms. Post suggested in the 1920s.

I don't think the engraved stationery is as strange as you would think, and how come more people don't use calling cards? I think I am secretly an old lady at heart but this world could use a touch more formality and also more women in the Adirondacks wearing a fur hat. Does anyone else picture a bomber hat there?

Well, don't leave us in suspense! How does one cross the floor without an escort??!

I would like to live in PG Woodhouse's books where people have great manners, know the difference between formal and semi-formal, & it's socially acceptable to get blotto and do stupid things. Of course, I'd have Jeeves to sort me out.

I think you might enjoy Lynne Truss's new book "Talk to the Hand - the utter bloody rudeness of the world today or six good reasons to stay home and bolt the door"

hi franklin--this is not related to the post-but i had no other way of contacting you. i was wondering if you would consider putting your "marge cartoon" on a tee shirt or hoodie--i would just love that! please let me know? thanks--bess

I've wanted engraved stationery since high school, complete with calling cards. I responded to job interviews with a thank you note written on a half sheet of ecru Crane stationery. I still want the engraved stuff.

Franklin, you should have been related to my grandmother (of course you're much too young, she was born in 1875). She said "gel" (with a hard g) for girl and "lahndry" for laundry and could never forgive my mother for the fact that her grandchildren had no manners and talked like Americans (we were Canadian, but no matter).

She never used the telephone for any social purpose; it was for doctors and tradesmen (notes and invitations were sent by post, which was delivered twice a day). And she always dressed for dinner, even during the war, when it consisted of boiled eggs (if you had chickens) or cheese on toast.

I was in awe on the three occasions that I met her, I was told she could be quite funny. She complained the the V2 raids at the end of the war always came when she was in her bath, and she quoted Cardinal Wolsey in Henry VIII: "Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies."

It's reassuring to hear that others take such pride and care in proper manners. When she wasn't teaching me how to knit or play a killer game of Scrabble, my grandmother spent countless hours teaching me proper manners. And thanks to her I can spend a whole day walking around with a dictionary on my head.

My 20 something neices think I'm so old-fashioned because I won't wear those spaghetti strap shirts because my bra straps might show and I won't wear a dress without a slip and stockings! Imagine, old-fashioned at 35 years. Thanks Gran!

Well, now I have to know... just how does one properly cross a ballroom floor without an escort? Assuming I ever did it, I must have done it wrong...and probably burped or fell on my ass or something equally heinous in the process.

I can definitely appreciate everything you've said. And oddly enough, I've found that while my family was generally informal when I was a kid, they've gotten slightly more formal as we've gotten older. I guess that's the difference of life with adult children vs. small kids. Being a mom now myself, I'm informal but still get a little bit of etiquette into my 4 year old, like excusing himself from the table politely sort of stuff, and learning how to set the table right. His dad never learned that, ironically enough, in his upper-middle class upbringing in South America. And my kid has speech-laungage issues, and he can at least remember his pleases and thank yous! But good manners and some etiquette can get you far-- it all depends on where you want to go. ;-)

That was fun! I'm not big on etiquette, but it's a fascinating thing to see it in action. . . I married mid-western, but grew up in NYC to Island parents, I've got a bit of everything going on. . . thanks for letting me know there are ever more levels to go. . . or not.

Well, oddly enough dear, I did know folks who did the formal invitation thing to the dorm party, etc etc. At least one became a bookie and another a missionary....but then I had odd friends.

But now I am beating proper manners and etiquette into a younger generation....we eat AT the table dear. Turn the damn TV OFF!

People still use calling cards...although these days they call them business cards and leave them in the fishbowl at bars to win a free meal.

In reality, of course, when confronted with the situation of being in a fancy schmancy setting, I basically head for the bar, grab a sparkling water and go hide behind a potted plant until I see someone I know to talk to. My dancing days are over..

When I was about eleven, I was having trouble going to sleep one night, and my dad gave me a copy of the 1942 edition of Emily Post's "Etiquette" ("With Wartime Supplement") -- his reasoning was that it would bore me straight to sleep. I was up all night, fascinated. I later gave an oral report in school on how to be a good houseguest -- since you are no doubt familiar with this chapter of Miss Post's, you can imagine what this may have been like!

We did ride in limos (well, for the opening of Lincoln Center and for other major events) and I had etiquette and manners drilled into my head from the age of two. My clothes came from Lord and Taylor. I wore the same winter coat, leggings and hat as Prince Charles and Princess Anne.

I had my own engraved stationery (Crane's, of course) at the age of eight. My family regularly dined at the Plaza Hotel, Delmonico's and the Pierre. Oh yeah, and Sardi's when it was the height of celebrity fame.

As a child, I longed for parents who would let me play with my Matchbox cars in my jeans in the dirt on Sundays. I could never stay clean long enough to suit anyone's taste. I frequently ran around places like the Plaza, hiding so the parents wouldn't find me. I hated the dresses, hated the ettyket, hated being something I wasn't.

I read an incredible book by Margaret Visser, "The Rituals of Dinner" that dealt (among other things) with what you wrote in your foot note. It was amazing to me to read about how the sharp part of the knife should not be facing out...toward your neighbor. It's not nice. Interesting stuff.

My rule for table manners when my child was a bit younger was no feet on the table. I'm now progressing to insisting she use cutlery. My mother, who is of the view that etiquette will elevate you to a higher station (or lack thereof will get you kicked out), is probably horrified.

Oh sweetie, move South. Become a Southerner. I will be your guide -because of course you'd NEED one because you aren't a Southerner and admission to the world you'd love would take generations. But I assure you it exists. My grandmother's pithy wisdom... "You don't have to marry a man who knows the difference between a shrimp fork and a pickle fork; just be sure he can afford to buy you both." I actually have three -count 'em, THREE- sets of grape shears. WHY????

But I'm not sure I know how to get across the floor of a ball room unescorted. Not in those horrendous shoes, anyway ;)

i'm quoting robert heinlein alot lately. this is paraphrased, but courtesy is the grease to society's wheels. (this is my bit, lol) no courtesy, and we get squeals, an squawks, and eventually everything breaks down

My clumsiness extends to manners -- I wish I had been better taught, I wish I had had your impulse, in youth, Franklin, to teach myself. I think the essence of it is, not just being nice to yourself, but also and more importantly, making other people feel comfortable.

Franklin, manners are nice but etiquette can be quite a stiffening harnass.There's a famous anecdote of our Queen Wilhelmina .Just after WWII there was a banquet and one of the Queen's quests of honour drank from his finger bowl much to the astonishment and mean little smiles from the other, "noble" guests.Noticing this Queen Wilhelmina calmly put down her knife and fork, and took a sip from her finger bowl too.Shame at the "noble" quests for chuckling that said.Against etiquette but what manners!I have been brought up with all the " right" manners and a lot of etiquette and have always questioned them because it excluded people without regard of their character or talent.My maternal grandmother had a better motto( and better manners too!)she just said: " Just behave, dear and don't do unto others.."

Did you know the calling cards were used to avoid actual visits but were just used as proof of an intended visit? Obligation fulfilled.Etiquette, very formal but how awful!No etiquette please,Franklin, just manners and my gran's motto will do nicely.Marcella, the Netherlands

As one of the (sadly) most ill-mannered people I know, I also have an obsession with long-out of print etiquette books. I think it began with a dramaturgical investigation into Restoration fan language and soon became a full-blown obsession. Although I have to say that my favorites of the genre are the tightly-wound, please-take-a-valium housewife's friend volumes of the late forties and fifties. Rock on with your love of the guideline!

We were the only family growing up in the Bronx,N.Y. who opened their serviettes placed them across their laps from left to right. Knew the difference between utensils and cutlery. My Mother thought she was the Queen Mum.

Hey, Franklin! This is the first time I've read your blog and believe me, I'm SO hooked!

This entry reminds me of the Sunday dinners when I was a kid, complete with china, crystal and silver, to give Mom a chance to teach us table manners.

I remember how much I enjoyed carefully washing and putting away the lovely china when we were finished. Today that china sits in my own cabinet. I pull out a teacup for my tea on quiet evenings alone when I'm knitting or spinning.

The grandmother of a friend of mine choked one afternoon, friend dashed off and got a cup of water and held it to the old lady's lips - old lady turned away croaking, 'Not from a cup.' Apparently one can only drink water from a glass, so friend dashed off again and brought back a glass of water which old lady drank, and lived. Since I heard that story, I've never been able to drink water from a cup.

"The goops they lick their fingersThe goops they lick their knivesThey wipe their faces on the table cloths {alternately "they eat their peas with a carving knife}And lead disgusting lives"

My folks were more than a bit strict on the social graces, however, they have served me well in later life.

My father tells this story of growing up at his parent's table

"When we were young, my mother had a way to keep us from putting our arms on the table. She would lie in wait, after we had been at it a while and then take a knife and whack us as hard as she could on the funny bone with the handle when we weren't looking. It usually only took once to learn the lesson, however, we all enjoyed it enormously when someone else got the treatment."

This, from the man who used to flick his peas into the chandelier with a spoon to keep from eating them.

Of course, my father's family would have been considered absolutely casual compared to my mother's where, until you could contribute to, or keep up with, the dinner conversation, you ate in the kitchen with "the help."

I have a passion for letterperss. I'm sacrificing yarn to save for letterpress stationary. Not so formal as the engraved look but still a substantial weight of paper with my name pressed (pressed please, no embossing for me) in a clear font across the top. Full name, too, since I lack a middle name to make a monogram beautiful.

What a lovely entry. Growing up we always ate dinner together in the evening with silverware (not stainless) and melmac plates, and I suppose we were reminded about elbows. I loved all the English stories with lovely dinners and calling cards with corners folded in certain ways. I also wanted engraved rather than embossed wedding invitations. I have gotten over some of the formality (but we eat together in the evening), but my sons get their own boxes of Crane's notes and write their thank yous. My 18 year-old son recently sent out thank you notes after a ceremony at which he was honored and received gifts. I was surprised (and very pleased) to find out that he had sent thank yous to people who had attended and not given him gifts. The people had helped him along the way, but I certainly had not asked him to write those notes. But how do you get across the ballroom floor?

Buzz! The goops!!! I'm so excited, nobody else has ever heard of them, and I know that same verse by heart!!!

Franklin, I once told you that manners were "all about being nice to people" becaues that is the BS that rich people tell themselves to pretend that manners aren't all about exclusion. It's exactly the same as saying that grammar is all about making oneself understood--when in fact, grammar, too, is all about exclusion.

Manners and being nice to people occasionally overlap, but that doesn't make them the same thing.

How do I properly cross a ballroom floor without an escort, please? I've probably been doing it wrong all these years (I tend to skirt round the edges, in a scurrying sort of manner).I've given up on formal invitations. The last batch I sent out I had to chase like no-one's business.~x~

I long for the days of calling cards... and calling on people, and being "in" or "out"...The veneer of civility that makes ettiquette so useful seems to be peeling off society in all the wrong places these days....Oh... and engraved stationery would be nice too. I already have the fountain pens with which to write upon it.

I think a lot of young people come to New York to ESCAPE the manners they had to learn at home, which is absolutely TERRIBLE in a city of this size.

Manners now seem to be a matter of class, with the lower classes actually more polite than the uppers of the social scale. The latter, thinks their sense of priviledge commands that others be polite to THEM, without reciprocation. Such foolishness!

Anyway, it's not Emily or my girl, Harriet Cole, who is setting the standard anymore. Now it's Paris H.

And speaking of "calling cards," I get particularly annoyed when I've handed someone business card, and they use it as scrap paper to write the name and number of a potential date on the back. I guess it's faster than a Sidekick.

I tell you, Franklin, my mother used to say that we were 'going to hell in a handbasket.' I think that now, we're going to need a football stadium.

Having just found your blog, I've been going through and reading your archives - while knitting, of course. I saw this post, and thought that if you enjoy this sort of thing, I should recommend the books of Georgette Heyer to you. My spouse and I both enjoy them very much.

A very similar situation over here. My parents are very informal working class people and I end up going to a sobbish colonial British university. I freaked out when it was time to go to my first formal dinner. I know how hard it is. But at the end of the day, I agree, it is just about being nice to people...

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